by Ilari Pass

The woman, not her desire, is like the spider  

when she takes unto herself a frail house.

If only her lover knew, she’ll wait for the moon 

to pry open the night, her web will flash 

silver sparkles, an allurement to destruction

between lines of white she writes 

toward the silence.

                                                           *   *   *

Ilari Pass holds a BA in English from Guilford College of Greensboro, NC, and an MA in English, with a concentration in literature, from Gardner-Webb University of Boiling Springs, NC. She currently is poetry consultant for Free State Review, and serve as a Representative Reader for the African American culture for North Carolina Writers’ Network. You can find her Greatest Hits in The American Journal of Poetry, Kissing Dynamite, ONE ART, As It Ought To Be, Sledgehammer Lit, Paterson Literary Review, Free State Review, and others.